


How It All Biigan

by ImDeGuy



Category: Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImDeGuy/pseuds/ImDeGuy
Summary: The Mii Fighters have always been oddballs compared to the rest of the Smash roster. They're the only playable characters that are totally original to the series, and lack any real character or origin story. This fic aims to change that!
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	How It All Biigan

“Alright, son! Let’s get to work!”

Little Mac couldn’t exactly say that he was excited to go back to his daily training regimen. He had a pretty good thing going back home in The Bronx, thanks to the amount of cash he’d earned through his run of the WVBA (a perfect one at that, mind you). At the same time, it wasn’t like he was actively dreading getting back into peak form - he had originally retired after it became clear there was nothing left to work for, and now, if Doc Louis was to be believed, he'd never have to worry about being bored like that ever again.

“Smash Brothers is gonna be different from what you’re used to, kid! For one thing, you’ll have to be able to leap tall platforms in a single bound, get used to running around a lot more, and a few other surprises! Lucky for you, whoever’s in charge of this thing gave us a top-of-the-line gym to help get you ready!”

Running around more? Jump tall platforms? Little Mac was starting to feel uneasy again. He thought it had been weird when the letter they had gotten had described transportation to this place had been described down to the last detail. They were instructed to board a plain black jet in the middle of the night, on a private airstrip out in the middle of nowhere. Once they arrived at the inconspicuous airliner, and boarded via a stairway left out by seemingly no one, Mac couldn’t help but notice there was no doorway to the cockpit. How did the pilot get in? The airplane had no windows, map, or anything to tell him where the pair were going, either. He half expected he was being kidnapped, and probably would have protested a little more if it hadn’t been for Doc’s reassurances. In the end, fighting the best the world had to offer was too big an opportunity to pass up...

Snapping back to reality, Mac noticed that Doc was walking off to a storage closet, muttering something about equipment. Mac took the opportunity to give the gym a look. Standing in the boxing ring that Doc had pointed out, he could get a pretty good view of the place. The polished walls seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, lit from far, far above by fluorescent lights. Lining one wall was an array of different exercise equipment, some Mac recognized, most he didn’t. Next to that was a giant pile of wooden crates, all of various shapes and sizes. Each of them had writing on the sides, but Mac had no idea what the words meant. He did know, however, he had never heard of fitness gear called a Star Rod. On the opposite end of the room, several platforms at varying heights jutted out from the wall, forming a kind of crisscrossing pattern. Was this what Doc meant by leaping platforms in a single bound? There was no way he’d be able to jump between those! What looked to be about the center of the facility held an olympic-sized pool of water, its water making gentle lapping noises in the otherwise silent gym. Some distance after the pool had ended, there looked to be a steep dropoff. Metal guard rails sparse along the ledge, with most of it lacking any protection from a fall. The tops of ladders could be seen in a few places.. Why this was, Mac had no idea. Mac hoped that there was some kind of padding at the bottom in case of an accident, since from where he was standing, it was too far to tell. The gym was easily the size of a plane hangar, making him feel smaller than usual. He’d expect a room this large to have multiple doorways, but as far as he could tell there was only the one he and Doc had entered from. Practically everything was colored some shade of white from floor to ceiling, and he could faintly smell a mixture of rubber and sanitizer in the air. It must have cost a small fortune to put this together. Where did his mysterious host get the money to put this all together? 

“Now, while you were busy getting some beauty sleep in that fancy bedroom of yours, I took a look-see around and found this!”

Doc hefted a large cargo crate into the arena. Little Mac’s confusion as to how a man as… generous as Doc was able to hoist it was soon forgotten once he saw the logo on each side of the crate. He’d never seen it back home, and the word printed on all sides in plain white text certainly wasn’t any equipment brand he was familiar with. Not to mention how dusty the thing was. A thick layer of grey surrounded every side, forcing him to cover his face as it billowed out from the impact.

“Whaddya think, son? Now, I may not know what “Mii” stands for, or even if it stands for anything, but if my years in the ‘biz have taught me anything, I came across some training dummies for you! Why don’tcha start out by bustin’ this thing open! Go on, use your rapid attack to wear it down!”

Mac complied. Settling into a fighting stance like one would a comfortable pair of shoes, he wound up and began firing off rapid jabs to the box. Wood splinters and clouds of dust began to choke the air around him, and he could hear Doc coughing in between the satisfying crunching noises his punches made. To his surprise, he found his arms began to fill with what felt like pure adrenaline, a sensation he’d only ever felt before when performing one of Doc’s signature “star punches”. The blows continued, as did the splinters and dust, and soon he was darting around the crate, targeting weak points like he would a real opponent and taking down each of its sides with lethal blows. This was the best he had felt in ages. He was so pumped up he didn’t even bother to keep his footing, instead kicking aside the quickly-growing piles of splinters while he moved. Doc, who had gone from coughing to shielding his face to avoid dozens of splinters flying from the rapidly deteriorating crate, cried out in protest.

“Woah there, Mac! Save some energy for the dummies!”

Mac knew that he should ease up a bit (he hadn’t even performed all of his warm ups yet!) but something strange was happening. Little Mac didn’t feel the usual soreness that came with connecting so many blows so fast. It was like his body had temporarily forgotten the concept of fatigue, and he was loving it. The mysterious crate continued to wear, until finally he gave it a devastating punch, sending it flying out of the ring in a hail of wood chips. As a small storm of dust settled, Little Mac stepped forward, ready for anything. Stepping into where the crate had once been, he could see the dummies - all three of them - lined up in a straight row.

The dummies weren’t normal human proportions, that was for sure. About the same height as Little Mac, they seemed similar enough to him in everything except the heads. The three had much larger noggins than the normal human, not to mention facial features that looked painted on, all colored black. The only thing that broke the flat surfaces that were their faces was a nose, which also had some lines near it. The leftmost dummy had shoulder-length reddish hair, and was wearing what appeared to be a simple orange robe held in place with a leather belt. Where its right hand should have been was something out of a science fiction movie - a steel arm cannon that looked like it could wipe him out in a single blast. The center dummy was adorned with a simple red shirt, and, similar to the orange-robed dummy, wore a belt. Upon a closer look at the buckle, Mac could see the same word from the side of the crate on it. This red-shirted dummy appeared to be meant for hand-to-hand practice, judging by the fighting gloves it wore. It was probably meant to practice dealing with ranged opponents, one of the things Doc had briefed him on on the way here. The final dummy wore a belt and buckle just like the rest, as well as the second one’s shirt, but colored blue. A scabbard was strapped over its back, and it held a sword in its right hand, which was partially protected by some armor plating. All three shared the same black pair of pants and the same emotionless expressions. They looked to be more specialized than the dummies he was used to, not to mention far more expensive-looking. All his years of training, and he had never seen anything like these Miis. Just where did they come from?

“Hey Mac, are you gonna keep waitin’ for those dummies to say hi, or are you gonna show em’ what you can do? They may not look like anything we used back home, I’ll bet they can take a punch or two just as well!”

Little Mac glanced over in time to see Doc take a sizable bite out of one of his beloved chocolate bars, while giving an encouraging thumbs up. He turned back to the three dummies, sizing up potential weak spots and clearing the questions from his mind.

“Mac, you should try out that “smash attack” I showed you on the way here! Bein’ able to pummel a sucker into tomorrow is all well and good, but you need to be ready to give em’ a single hit that’ll send them flying! Hold back a punch, and let your strength gather. Then, let it rip, and show those suckers who’s boss!”

Taking Doc’s advice, Little Mac held back his right fist, aiming square for the jaw of the red-shirted Mii dummy. That same adrenaline came flooding back into his body, but this time he felt it gathering only in his punching arm. Feeling the energy reach its boiling point, Little Mac sent his arm straight for the dummy’s face, and...

Watched the dummy move! Before Mac could react, the dummy had assumed some kind of special position, took his punch like it was nothing, and grabbed him! Mac’s whole body lurched as he was flung into the air by this dummy. As the disoriented boxer spiraled above the ring before landing (head first) in a heap on the ground, the dummy he had been attacking now began to bounce back and forth on its feet, without saying a word or changing its emotionless face. Mac couldn’t help but wonder if the dummies came with some kind of automatic countering device, or if he had accidentally turned it on. Either way, the Mii was active now, and more then ready to take more of his hits. Out of his eyesight, he heard Doc piping up.

“Woah woah woah! That one can move? Kid, I’m not sure if you saw that, but you sure must’ve felt it! That Mii just absorbed your attack and transferred its power into his own throw! Why don’t you try givin’ our new friend a hug, and see if he’s able to counter that?”

The dummy that could, indeed, move, awaited Little Mac’s next assault. Not one to step down to a training dummy, Mac surged forward and tried to bear-hug his opponent, a tactic learned from a certain boxer he had faced in the Major Circuit back home. However, right as he was opening his arms, something in the corner of his vision flashed, and the left side of his body cried out in pain, like it had instantly caught fire. Little Mac was blasted sideways, only saved from getting knocked totally out of the ring by the ropes. For a few moments, he was in total agony, his vision clouding and swaying. His vision was a blur, then quickly began to sharpen. To his shock, the pain he had just felt was already almost gone. It was like nothing had happened. Pushing himself off the ropes, he now could see his second attacker - the arm cannon Mii had dashed to the side and let loose a bolt of… something from their gun. As Mac got back to his feet, he heard Doc pipe up from beyond the ropes.

“That one woke up, too? Mac baby, try using your jolt haymaker to lunge over any more lasers, and sock that dummy where it’ll hurt!”

Ah, what would he do without Doc? Little Mac dashed forward, careful to give the currently stationary red shirted dummy a wide berth, and leapt into the air with all his strength, aiming for the expressionless (and upon second glance, very punchable) face of the blaster Mii. As he closed in, his fist ready to deliver a haymaker that would stagger even the sturdiest of foes, he heard shuffling from behind him. He could only watch as the canon dummy easily dodged his attack, and the pointed blade of the third and final dummy poked him clean through his chest. At this, Little Mac was boosted straight out of the ring, clearing the ropes and heading straight for a wall. Fighting to think through the new ripple of pain coming from his midsection, he thrusted his hands out and caught himself before he left a Little-Mac sized imprint on the wall. Afterwards, he fell to the ground in a heap, trying to feel where he had been stabbed. Doc Louis, unsurprisingly, was beside him in an instant, helping him to his feet.

“Mac, you OK? Those three gave you a beating! I don't know how, but even though that sword went clean through you, there’s no hole! I wonder if...”

Doc trailed off as he turned to watch the three Miis. They turned away from the pair in unison, and lept out of the arena. As if practiced, they simultaneously reached a seemingly random section of the wall, before coming to a halt in a straight line.The swordsman and the red-shirted dummies stepped back, as the blaster dummy began to charge a ball of… something. Was that what had hit him? Whatever it was, it grew and grew in the space in front of the blaster, before discharging straight into the wall with a giant crash. Mac couldn’t believe his eyes when the wall gave in easily, and revealed a dimly lit, red carpeted hallway.The trio disappeared down the path without looking back. The pain from the sword nothing more than a memory, Mac turned to Doc as if to say “What were those things?”

“Son, I think we better stop those three before they do any more damage to whatever’s down that hall! I don’t wanna get kicked out for causing trouble before the party’s even started!”

That was all Little Mac needed to hear. He blasted towards the hole at full speed, ready for a little payback. Doc followed behind as fast as he could, silently cursing himself for leaving his bike in his room.

The three Mii dummies, steps in sync, ran down the halls as if they had done it hundreds of times. The rows and rows of empty corridors, crisscrossing and intersecting at seemingly random positions, made perfect sense to them. It would seem to any rational human a labyrinth with no exit, a maze with no prize, but the Miis were different. When coming up on splits, they knew exactly where to go, making the choice between seemingly identical paths without slowing. The Miis didn’t even glance at the vibrant windows that lined these halls, each landscape more breathtaking than the last. Rocky badlands overlooking a dazzling sunrise in one, the vast expanse of space in another, and a floating racetrack amid a bustling city in yet another. Seemingly at random, the orange-tunic gunner peeled off into a side hallway, identical to all the others, as smoothly as clockwork. Then, the swordsman did the same, with a hallway a little ways down. The red shirt was left alone, unperturbed by his sudden loneliness. All three continued at full speed, headed towards a final destination that only they seemed to know. While they may have known their destinations, they certainly had no idea how much what lay there would change their lives...

**Author's Note:**

> And so it begins! After chipping away at this for months, I decided it was finally time to release the first part of this fic I've been working on. I'm still new to this whole thing, so please excuse any formatting errors you might see. All feedback is welcome, and I should (hopefully) be able to publish the next chapter soon!


End file.
